Freepalestine Stories

hi I will never finish this

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐊-𝐀𝐋-𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁 (𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊-𝐓𝐖𝐎) "Your Jae-Min is dead," he spat. "The Supreme Commander-in-Chief of Vylak-is gone. And you... you killed him." · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 - 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐚𝐞-𝐌𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐦 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬 - 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧. 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐈𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 - 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫, 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨

Experiences that I choose to confront

Raising awareness is the way to go. Big issue or small issue it's still an issue. This is not right. Let's put a stop to it. Together.

Jessica should be your ordinary 18 year old american teenager, but she's not. she left her family and went to Gaza (which is currently a war zone) to persue her dream in photography, but what happens when she meets a Palestinian solider? Will his religion get in the way? Is she willing to convert for him? What will her parents back home say?

!Art cover not mine¡

Boycott Facebook and support Palestine

18th borfday book c : There are some really important messages inside so please read and consider these words.

anti-war poem

alejandro de los santos khamis.

poems from the heart, random thoughts that I get in the middle of the night.

This is a story about the journey of a girl who was born in Palestine under the Israeli occupation. Her name is Huda al-Masri and she is 12 year old. This story will give some insight of how it feels to be a Palestinian girl through Huda's experience. From her attending an Israeli school to how it is at home. You will take a step into Palestinian culture and see how Palestine bleeds, in the story, Palestine's Blood.

stop falling for zionist propaganda

Just information about the flotilla, and there will be history added to this in parts.

In a land where the echoes of war reverberate through every street and the scent of despair lingers in the air, two souls find themselves entangled in a web of sorrow and resilience. Tariq, a young boy torn from his family by the cruel hands of fate, and Sara, a girl trapped in a house of grief, both yearn for a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. As they navigate the ruins of their once vibrant city, their paths cross in the most unexpected of ways, forging a bond that will challenge their understanding of strength, survival, and the true meaning of home. Together, they embark on a journey through the shadows of their past, seeking solace in each other and the promise of a brighter tomorrow. This is their story-a tale of loss, love, and the unyielding human spirit.

"Mothers of Resilience: The Unseen Heroes of Palestine" is a poetic tribute to the enduring spirit of Palestinian mothers - women who carry the weight of unimaginable loss and yet rise each day with grace, strength, and unwavering love. It is a celebration of the silent battles fought in the shadows, where motherhood becomes both resistance and refuge. To the women of the free world: This poem is a call to your hearts - to see, to feel, to stand in sisterhood with those whose freedom is stripped, but whose dignity remains untouched. May you draw inspiration from these heroines of olive groves and sacred soil. May you raise your voices for those whose stories are silenced. In every mother who walks barefoot with hope, who shields her child with her body, who smiles through grief - there is a mirror of your strength, your potential, your light. Let us not only admire their courage, but echo it - in action, in compassion, in unwavering solidarity.

*Olives in the Rubble* **By S. Fatima** In Gaza, sixteen-year-old **Yusra Al-Najjar** survives between ruins and airstrikes - with nothing but her diary, her little sister, and a heart full of unspoken words. She writes what the world forgets: The names behind the numbers. The dreams buried beneath broken schools. The hope that still grows, like **olives in the rubble**. ---

this is only poetry, do not expect any stories. every chapter is a new poem. Everything I've written are my stories that I've experienced, or heard somewhere and got inspired by it. you may relate or not, and it's totally okay.

This is a message for anyone who see this. Please be aware, this message could have a sensitive topic. - May have some immature words - May have bad grammar - Some may feel sensitive about the topic - Please no arguments, no hate speech - May contain some bad words - Mention of murders - I'm sorry if I make any mistake or hurt anyone's feeling, I'm just trying to deliver an important message.